“We’ve got several people working with satellite imagery,” Leine added. “My colleague, Lou Stokes, uses a computer program that searches for similar images quickly. Thanks to Art’s contact we have a launch location and a positive ID on the boat used so it shouldn’t take long to pinpoint where they took her. They are also checking into properties belonging to the general.”
“And then?” Hope suffused Katarina’s face.
“And then we launch a rescue operation, which is my guys’ specialty,” Art answered.
“And mine, as well,” Leine said. “Hopefully we’ll have her back within forty-eight hours.”
Sakharov leaned forward. “At most I can delay completing the shipment for three days without Roman growing suspicious. Any longer, he’ll realize I’m stalling and I risk my daughter’s life. This is something I will not do.”
Leine nodded. “Hopefully that will be enough time.”
“It will have to be.” Sakharov rose from the couch. Katarina joined him. The meeting was over. “If you’ll excuse me. I have business to attend to.”
After the Sakharovs left, Leine turned to Art. “So what do you think?”
“I think we’re gonna need more guys.”
Chapter 28
An island in the Aegean Sea
Olga woke the next morning with a splitting headache. At first she didn’t know where she was, and an unspecified anxiety wound its way up her chest and into her throat. Soon, images from the previous night flooded the cottony recesses of her mind and the anxiety went into overdrive. She’d come to in the hold of a boat that smelled of diesel and rotting fish, with her hands and ankles bound. As soon as the vessel docked, she was heaved over the shoulder of one of her captors before being dumped on the desolate, rocky shore. Another man, one who looked like a bull with massive, sloping shoulders, then tossed her onto the back of a donkey like a bag of potatoes to make the arduous trek up a mountainous trail.
More images raced through her mind. She’d been in the backseat of Farid’s SUV, heading to the club. Then…nothing. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath to clear her head.
What happened to Farid? She hoped he was all right.
What did they want? Money, obviously. Ransoming the daughter of one of the wealthiest men in Russia would be seen as lucrative. Except her father wasn’t one to take this kind of coercion lying down. He had powerful friends. Surely that would count for something.
Why had she defied her parents? Despair at the folly of her choice to leave the villa clawed its way into her chest. That’s what you get for trying to have things your way.
Her legs unsteady, she cracked open the door to her tiny, airless room and looked out into the main part of the cottage. Two men she didn’t recognize were seated at the table, playing chess. One was smoking, while the other took a swig off a bottle of beer. Both had automatic weapons.
Heart beating in her ears, she eased the door closed and leaned her forehead against the wood. She didn’t want to walk past the gunmen, but she couldn’t breathe. Claustrophobic from the windowless room, she knew she’d lose it if she didn’t get some fresh air.
She eased the door open again. Then, with a deep breath she pushed it wide and walked into the room. The man who was smoking glanced at her and then returned his attention to the chess pieces on the board in front of him. A slow smile curving his lips, the one with the beer looked her up and down and kicked the chess player in the leg.
“Well, well. Look who finally decided to grace us with her presence.” He set his beer on the table and stood up, nonchalantly slipping his gun over his shoulder. Solidly built, he wore tan camouflage pants and a dark green T-shirt. Ring tattoos covered his fingers, with a skull and bloody knife on the back of one hand, an angel with a woman’s name on the other. “Would you like a tour of the patio?” He held out his hand in an invitation.
Unsure if he was putting her on, she didn’t move. “I-I would like to go outside.” She glanced back at her bedroom. “It’s so stuffy in there.”
“But of course. Please, allow me. I’d be happy to show you your new home.”
The other man smirked.
Olga reached out a tentative hand. He smiled and nodded.
“My name is Frederik. What’s yours?”
“Olga,” she said, feeling the corners of her mouth respond in a smile.
“Olga. That’s a lovely name. Shall we?”
He led her through the small room and out the front door. The day was already warm, but the flagstones were still cool on her feet.
“So, Olga. What will you do for us?”
Olga frowned in confusion. “What do you mean?”
Frederik grinned, revealing yellow teeth. “What will you do for us so that your stay here is more comfortable?”
She let go of his arm and stepped back. “I don’t understand.”
“Oh, I’m sure you do,” he said. He grabbed the back of her neck and forced her head down toward his crotch. Olga twisted out from under his grip and backed up until her knees hit the low stone wall.
Frederik’s booming laugh echoed against the hillside. “Don’t play the innocent with me, little princess.” He advanced toward her, a lascivious grin on his face.
“Frederik.” A man’s deep baritone reverberated across the patio. It was one of the men from the previous night—the one who resembled a bull. He walked toward them from the steep trail they’d traveled the night before. In his hand was a device the size and shape of a large mobile phone. “Don’t touch the merchandise.”
Frederik shrugged. “I was only teasing, Drago.”
Drago waved him back into the tiny stucco cottage. “Keep it in your pants, or you won’t have anything to keep inside them.” The other gunman scowled but did as he was told.
Ignoring her, Drago walked to the end of the patio. Curious, she watched him as he fiddled with the device he carried. The screen flickered to life. Moments later, a buzzing sound echoed through the still, warm air and grew louder. A large white drone appeared over the crest of the hill above them. Drago worked the controls and the drone swooped left, then right, then straight up. Some kind of weapon was attached to the underside. Absorbed by the machine’s acrobatics, at first she didn’t notice Frederik standing in the doorway, watching her. She felt his stare and glanced at him. He grinned and made an obscene gesture, and she quickly looked away.
Without warning, the gun attached to the drone erupted in a rapid barrage of bullets that strafed the dun-colored hillside. Startled, Olga leaped to her feet, ready to run. Laughter erupted from the doorway as Frederik clapped at the show.
“Good job, Drago. You scared our little princess.”
Drago smiled, obviously pleased with how the drone performed. “An added bonus, then.” He fiddled with the controls and the drone flew up and over a small stand of olive trees, then disappeared over the hill. He slid the controller into the side pocket of his fatigues and walked back inside the cabin.
Left alone, Olga walked under the tarp, which had a mottled tan and green pattern woven throughout. A dazzling blue sky beckoned just past the edge, and she caught the distinct scent of the sea below. Maybe they’d let me go for a short walk? She wouldn’t be able to escape—not without a boat. And it wasn’t like she’d be able to swim back to Athens from an island in the middle of the Aegean.
A second man from the night before appeared near the crest of the hill, his rifle slung over his shoulder. He wore the same fatigues as Frederik. She stepped outside the covered section and raised her face to the warm sun but tensed when she heard a shrill whistle. Startled, she glanced up to see the other guard racing toward her.
Olga quickly stepped back under the tarp and braced herself. When he reached her, chest heaving from the sprint, his expression was dark.
“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to—”
“You must never leave the shade cloth.” He pointed to the tarp above them. “
If you do, Drago won’t be happy.” He added, “You don’t want to make Drago unhappy.”
Olga looked at her feet. Dark splotches of oil from smashed olives dotted the flagstones. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
She glanced at him through her lashes. A chunk of hair the color of sand fell across his forehead, and he pushed it back. Flirting was the last thing she felt like doing, especially with a man who had her under armed guard, but she kept replaying what her father’s chief of security, Yevgeny, told her about humanizing herself if she was ever kidnapped. She hoped it would work. Besides, he wasn’t all that bad looking.
“Make sure that it doesn’t.” His words were a warning, but his demeanor told her otherwise. The corner of his full mouth twitched as he tried to suppress a smile. He was a few years younger than the other men, making him seem much less hardened, and more like someone from her generation. Olga thought she saw a spark of humanity in his brown eyes. In contrast, Frederik’s expression showed nothing but cold calculation.
A loud cough came from inside the house, and the man nodded toward the open doorway. “You should go inside. Drago will have food.”
“Thank you.” Olga turned to go, but then stopped. “What is your name?”
“Call me Luka.” With that, he turned and began the climb back to the crest of the hill.
Olga walked inside the house, blinking to help her eyes adjust to the dark interior. Drago sat at the table with Frederik and the other gunman. His rifle was nearby, leaning against a chair. A plate of olives and cheese was on the table next to him. Olga’s stomach growled, reminding her how long it had been since she’d last eaten. Drago looked up from what he was doing and eyed her coldly. A chill swept through her at his examination, and she averted her eyes.
He pushed the plate of food toward her and grunted. Hesitantly, she stepped forward and reached for a slice of cheese. When all three men ignored her, she selected a few olives and another slice of cheese and walked over to the makeshift kitchen.
“May I have some water?” she asked. By the feel of her parched tongue, it had been hours since she’d had anything to drink.
“In there.” Drago’s voice echoed in the small room. She bent down and lifted the lid on the cooler. Inside were several large bottles of water, some still and some carbonated. Olga chose a bottle of still and looked around for a glass. Not finding anything to use and wary of engaging any of the men in a conversation, she unscrewed the lid and tipped her head back as she drank directly from the bottle.
Frederik leaped out of his chair and ripped the bottle from her hand. Olga cowered in the corner, expecting him to hit her. He slammed the plastic bottle on the counter and glared at her.
“Use a glass. Or don’t they do that where you come from?” he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. With exaggerated deliberation, he pulled aside a curtain beneath the counter, revealing two shelves. On the top shelf were four mismatched glasses. The bottom shelf had a well-used frying pan, four chipped plates, and a bowl. His expression told her he was waiting for her to make another misstep. Violence rolled off him in waves and she dared not look in his eyes for fear of what she might find there.
“Thank you,” she murmured, and bent to choose a glass. Half expecting him to wrench her arm, she was relieved when he strode to the table and resumed his game. She would have to be careful to watch everything she did. She quickly filled her glass with water, screwed the cap back on, and returned the bottle to the cooler. Then she walked outside and sat on the low wall to sip her drink.
Her view was limited. She caught glimpses of blue through dips in the rocky surroundings, but she couldn’t get a good look from her position under the tarp. If she could edge out to the perimeter of the patio she might be able to see more, but her encounter with Drago, Luka, and Frederik had shaken her confidence, and she wanted nothing more than to stay out of their way.
Luka was no longer in view, but she got the feeling that he wasn’t far. She took another drink and sighed. She wished Mikhail was there. He’d have already thought of a plan of escape and be halfway home. If only she had paid more attention to the action adventure movies her brother and father loved so much. Maybe she’d be braver, or at least have some idea how to get away.
She looked down at her manicured toenails, at the scratches on her legs from the midnight transfer on the boat, and at the stains and ripped material of her once-beautiful dress. Her rush to escape the villa and go to the club seemed so stupid now. She found it hard to believe it had only been the night before. Bile crept up her throat and her stomach roiled. She clapped her hand over her mouth but couldn’t hold back, and vomited in the dirt.
She stood up and wiped her hand across her mouth. The water must have made her sick. She scraped dirt into a small pile and spread it over the mess to conceal the evidence. It still smelled rank, but maybe it would soak into the soil before Drago or one of the others came outside.
She held the glass up and peered at the water. It looked clear. Maybe it was an aftereffect of whatever drug she’d been given. She moved to another section of the patio and set the glass of water down. The sun was directly overhead. It must have been close to noon. The air was stagnant under the tarp, and Olga’s stomach made ominous gurgling noises. She stood up and moved to the edge of the patio, hoping to catch a slight breeze.
As soon as she did, Luka appeared. He gave her a warning glance and shook his head, his hand on the butt of his rifle. Drago appeared at the door, a gun in his hand.
Without a word, Olga stepped back under the stifling shade.
Chapter 29
Sakharov villa, Athens, Greece
“We found it.” Lou’s voice held a note of triumph. “On the night of the abduction, the boat was spotted in the Cyclades at a rocky outcropping that could barely be considered an island. Population one burro, but there’s an old jetty that’s been used for decades by fishermen to tie up their boats when bad weather hits.”
“That’s great, Lou. Are there any structures? Somewhere they might be holding her?” Leine asked. The kidnappers could be using a cave. If that was the case, it would take more manpower to root them out.
“There’s an interesting anomaly at the crest of the island so I had the pictures enhanced. Looks like there might be something. I just sent you the coordinates with the enhanced images along with a bird’s-eye view. Check out the southwest quadrant. Looks like a good landing area.”
“You’re amazing. Thanks.”
“Thank the genius who developed the program. It would have taken a hell of a lot longer without it.”
“Remind me to take you and your lovely wife out to dinner when I get back.”
“You can count on it. Be safe.”
Leine ended the call and opened the file he’d sent. The bird’s-eye view showed an island shaped like a pie with a bite taken out of it where the jetty was located. She enlarged the photograph to look at the southwest section. Lou was right—there was ample space to land at least two, maybe three inflatable boats next to a small cove. The highest point of the island wasn’t terribly steep, so the climb wouldn’t be too arduous. They’d have to be prepared for snipers, of course. Coming in low was never good. They could fast rope down to the island from a helicopter, but the rotor noise would alert the men holding Olga hostage, and there was no telling what they’d do if they realized they were under attack.
Leine forwarded the information to Art and went in search of him and his men. Art had managed to find a total of eight guys he’d worked with before. Counting Art and Leine there were ten. All were seasoned soldiers hailing from four different countries. She’d wondered about the language barrier but was happy to find out they all had a varying command of the English language, so communication wouldn’t be a problem. Obviously feeling the weight of his failure for not being at the villa to stop the abduction, Yevgeny had expressed a fervent desire to join them. Art told him no, that he was too close to the situation and his
emotions would be a detriment to the operation.
He was right, of course. With this kind of exercise cold, objective, and calculating was the only way to go.
She found Art and two of his guys watching soccer on the three televisions in the library. Art looked up when she entered.
“I got the text,” he said, holding up his phone. One of the teams scored a goal and the guys cheered. He led her into the hallway and closed the doors behind them.
“I thought we could discuss the operation,” she said. “Lou mentioned a possible structure at the crest of the hill. I sent you the enhanced photos.”
“Good. Let’s go somewhere we won’t be disturbed.”
They ended up in the backyard under a gazebo covered in magenta bougainvillea. The late afternoon sun bathed the well-maintained yard in deep gold. Leine took a seat on one of the wicker chairs next to a low table. Art sat across from her.
“I assume we’ll stage the operation from the Cyclops,” she said.
Art nodded. “We’ve got the use of two Zodiacs, mine and Daniel’s, which gives us plenty of room to carry men and equipment.”
“Perfect. I suggest we approach at oh-three-thirty and stash the Zodiacs in that cove on the southwest side. It looks like there’s an outcropping that should give us good cover from above. We’ll need someone to do recon to find out how many gunmen are guarding Sakharov’s daughter.”
“I’ve got a drone.”
“That could work, but I’d still like to have verification on the ground.” She took out her phone and brought up the enhanced photos Lou sent. “Take a look.” She slid the phone across the table. “He was right. There’s some kind of structure at the crest of the hill. Looks like they’re using a camo tarp.”
“What about the video? Any movement?”
“I haven’t looked at it yet.” She tapped the screen and brought up the enhanced satellite footage. Several seconds into the video a figure seemed to appear out of nowhere and continue over the rise to the south. Leine backed it up, zoomed in, and they watched it again.
The Last Deception Page 16